


You're Safe Now

by TheProphetMich



Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Kidnapping, Post-Invasion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Traumatized Jaime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:10:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9595217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProphetMich/pseuds/TheProphetMich
Summary: After being kidnapped for the second time in his life, Blue manages to escape and contact Bart and Nightwing for help. Accepting the Scarab and him are safe is easier said than done.





	

Knuckles nudged the sleek black of his arm and Jaime jerked. He was on a couch, over stuffed pillow under his head, Bart leaning over him. His breath was hot on his face. "C'mon, it can't be comfortable sleeping in your armor."

Jaime twisted to his side, sinking as the cushions gave under his weight. "I'm fine." His sense of touch was muffled and he couldn't pick up on the texture, but it was probably soft. He missed soft. The black inched away and air hit cold against his fingertips. He exposed his fingers, his palm, and blinked at his skin, uneased by it's flimsiness, by the trembles going through it. He caught Bart staring and jerked the armor into place.

"No, armor down," Bart mumbled. "I miss your face."

Jaime shook his head. He didn't want anyone to see him shaking, and Khaji Da could press against it, make it unnoticeable. A slight pout drew from Bart's lips, eyes soft. He dropped them to the floor a second and pushed a glass of water to his hand. It clanked against the plates of metal.

By the time Jaime drained the glass, Bart's features were tough again. Kind, but strong, and Jaime could only manage a small twitch of regret. His muscles ached from the fighting and the hours of flying that followed. But they made it out, the Scarab and him. They were safe.

Bart held out a sandwich in his bare, sweat layered glove, and a fruit basket. "We have cereal, too. Left over lasagna."

His stomach puckered and Jaime snatched it, half of it gone in a bite.

 _Eat the banana_ , Khaji Da instructed. The Scarab went into tech talk as Jaime peeled it, something about his food intake, but he wasn't really processing the Scarab's words. He exposed the very tip of his pointer, stroking the peel. _You'll look out if I sleep, right? Just in case?_

Khaji Da paused, a click of annoyance at the interruption. _As always. I'll wake you when the Nightwing approaches._

Jaime nodded, pressing the couch, drawing circles into it. So soft. "Nightwing's ETA?"

"A few hours. He's in the middle of something in Bludhaven." It was a non-monotone voice and it drew his eyes up. Bart still had his yellow suit on, brown hair messy. Jaime wanted to touch it. "Gramp's been in Idaho for a few days, Flash business, but Grandma's home. I should wake her, right?"

"I missed you."

Bart grinned. "Same." He whacked Jaime's chest, fast but not blurred. Jaime caught his wrist on the pull back, crushing. Bart's face caved, a groan trapped between his teeth. He tried to yank away. "Jaime."

Jaime's eyes focused. His fingers loosened and Bart's wrist was cradled in his other hand. It took a few seconds for his eyes to grow. "Sorry!"

"Sorry?" Bart's eyes were sharp again. Dark. Mistrustful.

"So sorry. It was reflex, I didn't mean—" His hand flexed forward. Bart flinched. Jaime clasped his hands together in his lap, lump rising in his throat, head dipping under Bart's stare. He hadn't been touched in awhile, not in a way that wasn't meant to draw blood or bruise. But hurting Bart, especially while armored up, that was a big no.

Something jabbed his chest. Jaime peeked up as Bart's hand blurred again, another touch, just to prove his speed. Jaime tightened his fist to keep still.

Bart faked a grin, adding extra height to his brow for effect. "Hey, we're crash. Let's get you some sleep. I'll smooth things over with Grandma." He took Jaime by the hand, and Jaime tried to decipher any sped up wincing or flinching, but Bart was too fast, too practiced at hiding things like that.

Clothing littered Bart's floor, as did a backpack, several dishes, and chip bags. Jaime stepped around a board game with its contents spewed and ended up snapping a hanger before dropping to the bed and burrowing under the blanket. The pillows smelled like Bart. He missed the scent, missed any scent that wasn't shit and piss and blood, really.

He woke curled in blankets instead of a cement floor and screwed his eyes tighter just in case it was the lingers of a dream. But someone was moving around the room. He jolted, vision tinting green. _Scarab?_

_Calm, Jaime Reyes. Bart Allen has entered the room._

Jaime rolled over. Bart wore sweats, now, and a t-shirt as he kicked stuff into piles. He turned when the bed creaked. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," Jaime said.  _You don't have to wake me when someone comes in anymore. Unless it's a stranger, okay?_

_Affirmative._

"Anything going on," Jaime asked, scooting over.

"Woke Iris up. She yelled at me for not telling her before I left to meet you. Said she'd wait up for Nightwing." Bart slowed to a normal pace, kicking a book towards the wall, a few more shirts following it.

"We can share if you want to sleep."

Bart looked him over. "Okay. Take off the armor."

The Scarab said they could armor up in a second if need be and pointed out he'd be more comfortable without it, but Jaime shook his head. A speedster could kill in a fraction of that.

 _This is an illogical fear_ , Scarab said.

"I know that, but." Jaime winced at his voice, at how frail it was. He tried clearing it. "I mean. I probably stink under it."

"Hello, apocalyptic not-future? I'm nose blind, trust me."

Jaime didn't armor down. He peeled back a corner of the blanket. "Please?"

Bart stared again and Jaime managed to hold it. Bart sighed, carefully curling under the covers and into his side. "Have you armored down since you were kidnapped?" He shook his head and Bart found his arm, traced the plates that covered it. "Just your hands?"

Jaime unwrapped them. Bart latched onto one and intertwined his fingers. Jaime let his other brush against Bart's hair. They flopped around for a better position.

Bart mumbled about how the team was doing. He talked about how happy everyone would be to see him and about a tv show Iris got him interested in. Jaime relaxed for the first time in forever as Bart's breath slugged and his voice petered off.

Jaime's consciousness dragged in and out. He'd squeeze Bart tight, figure out where he was, and relax again. He mumbled nonsense. Bart woke at one point and stroked his arm and whispered that he was safe, dozing off after Jaime loosened his grip.

Jaime opened his eyes when knuckles tapped the door. Nightwing peeked in, still in black and blue, a small tear at his shoulder that revealed bandaged skin. Jaime slipped his limbs away from Bart, who shifted but stayed asleep.

Nightwing held up a hand. "No, you rest. We can take care of everything later."

Jaime stepped around what remained of the maze on Bart's floor. "What time is it?"

Nightwing answered the same time as the Scarab, though not as precise. "5:30 about."

"Can we talk? It can wait if. If you want. I know it isn't exactly your job anymore, since Aqualad's leader now, but." He trailed. He didn't want to talk to Aqualad. It'd be awkward.

Nightwing rested a hand on his shoulder and Jaime tensed. "It's fine. That's what I'm here for." They headed downstairs. Iris wasn't in the kitchen and Jaime used inferred vision to check the living room, but she wasn't there either. Nightwing thumbed towards a wooden door down the hall. "Told her to get some sleep. She has work in a few hours."

A coffee mug sat on the counter, medium brown, half full. Nightwing grabbed it and took a sip. "Bart said you contacted him from Arizona. That you escaped from somewhere and wouldn't tell him much else." Jaime nodded. "But you'll tell me."

Jaime pulled out a chair and sat. Metas, bloody and broken, seared his eyelids. The drugs in the air, waking him up, pumping his heart, pushing him to draw blood. The crowd around them. Cheering. "Have you hear of dogfighting? It's gross, the owners force them to fight in this ring and tear into each other. I watched a documentary on it once. It was like that, but with metahumans."

Nightwing's mask widened, but most of his expression hid behind it. Good, because Jaime didn't want to see it. "Kids and adults. No heros, cause people would notice that, but a lot of metas hide from society, from the law, from people like this. No one really notices them go missing."

Nightwing leaned against the counter. "So, how'd you get captured?"

"I was looking into a missing persons." The Posse asked him to keep an eye out after the third meta vanished from their area. "I found them. But the whole place was enforced with magic, my sensors stopped working, and this drug was in the air." Jaime stood. He walked the length of the kitchen and back before opening the cupboard and pulling out a box of cereal.

Nightwing kept a conversational tone. "How many metas were there?"

Jaime visited Bart enough to know where the bowls were, but collecting the supplies, pulling milk out of a fridge; it felt foreign. "It varied from 32 to 67 at a time. Our location moved around too. We weren't always in America." He knew that from the variety of people who watched the fights, and a lot of the metas there didn't speak English or Spanish, not that the Scarab didn't translate. Jaime sat back down, inhaling a spoonful.

Nightwing watched him eat. Well, let him eat was probably a better description, few could tell where his eyes were pointing. His head turned to gaze out the window a few times, though. "International complicates things."

"I know."

"At least the team's covert."

"But it still complicates things." Jaime stirred his cereal, heat pulsing under his eyes. "I tried to save them. Twice." Diaos, that number sounded terrible out loud.

Nightwing's hand brushed his shoulder, a low "Hey." Not rough, not judgmental. "You did what you had to."

"I just wanted out."

"I understand that. It's okay."

"Every time I tried saving them, they caught us, and every time I was caught—" He swallowed. Tried to smear the tears away.

Nightwing gave him a small shake. "I'm glad you got yourself out of there." Jaime nodded and the black smudge in front of him disappeared for a second, returning with a box of tissues. Jaime took a few. "Sometimes you just need to save yourself."

Jaime whispered, "I let the Scarab take control."

_Revealing this information jeopardizes your relationship with our teammates._

"I have to tell someone. I can't live with myself if." He throat clogged. Nightwing's hand settled on his back. "The drugs are designed to hype you up, make you fight. It was hard to control myself, you know? It was a relief, letting him do it."

Nightwing nodded. "Did Blue Beetle kill?"

Jaime sniffled, started blubbering on. Nightwing pushed the tissue box toward him. Jaime blew.

One girl had a broken leg going into the ring and burned half his face off with acid. It was him who beat her bloody, not the Scarab. Khaji Da intervened before he killed her, but she died in her cell from the injuries Jaime inflicted. It was awhile before he caved and allowed the Scarab to kill. They both got sick of listening to their suffering.

Nightwing kept a grip on his shoulder, letting babbles turn to sniffles turn to breathing. "I'm not gonna lie and say everyone'll understand, especially in the hero community, but I'm not judging you, alright? And trust me, there's been several heroes who've accidentally killed people by hitting them just right in the wrong spot, as rare as it is to hear about. And heroes who unintentionally get people killed by association. And heroes who have killed intentionally, because it's what soldiers go out to do and it's the easiest way to end things, even if it isn't necessarily right. You're still a hero, okay?"

Jaime nodded. Nightwing took away the cereal bowl. It was soggy now, inedible, and washed it out in the sink. "Thank you," Jaime said.

"It's what I'm here for." He laid it in the other side of the sink. "We'll get you checked out, though we can put that off so you can sleep. I haven't contacted your family yet, but I can do that for you if you prefer and Iris said you're more than welcome to stay here."

A smile settled on Jaime's face. "I missed you guys."

"We missed you, too," Nightwing said. He crossed his arms and leaned back on the counter. "We'll put a stop to this. I promise."

Jaime rubbed the back of his neck. "Good. That's really good. I mean, it's what I want to happen. And this may be a bit selfish, but I'm not going back there."

Nightwing stared at him. Jaime expected an argument; he had inside info, after all, and a sizable portion of the community would say he was abandoning "his" mission. But Nightwing just nodded. "Okay."

Jaime blinked. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah, and if anyone gives you shit for it, send them straight to me."

Jaime tossed the wad of Kleenex in the trash. It was so much easier to go to Nightwing with things like this. "I'm gonna take a break from the team, too. College is coming up. Maybe." A breath of a laugh. "I just missed a chunk of school."

"Put yourself first for awhile." He downed the rest of his coffee. "Get some sleep, okay? We can deal with everything else later."

Jaime made his way back to Bart's room. He had spread out on the mattress in his absents and Jaime budged him over. Tugged a portion of the blanket out from under him. He slipped the armor away, completely away, and kept it like that for a full ten seconds before wrapping himself up again. Not yet.

Bart mumbled something as Jaime got comfortable and he remembered to exposed his hands. It was a starting point and having that meant he could manage.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback appreciated.


End file.
